The Inner Thoughts of a Gentleman
by Sophie-Sofia
Summary: On an especially rainy day, England just can't seem to focus. One question just keeps haunting him. 'Why does everyone leave me…' But there's a certain Frenchman who doesn't seem to leave him.


The Inner Thoughts of a Gentleman

Written by Sophie-Sofia

Rated: T

Central Character/Pairings: England/Britain (Arthur Kirkland). There's a tad bit of FrUK though…

Summary: On an especially rainy day, England just can't seem to focus. One question just keeps haunting him. _'Why does everyone leave me…?'_ But there's a certain Frenchman who doesn't seem to leave him.

Author's Note: Hello there, loves, this is my first story, so please be kind!

-In England-

It was raining once again. For the past week or two, it had been raining, almost non-stop. The dark clouds kept the sun from shining down on the city of London, and the dreary weather made the place look miserable. The streets that are usually bustling with people are empty, only the occasional person scurrying through the rain with their umbrella. With all this dreary weather, it made England himself feel quite miserable.

England sighed as he marked his place in the book he was reading before setting it down. He just couldn't seem to concentrate on anything today. He tried doing his paperwork, but only got through a few pages before staring blankly at the paper, unable to focus. Next, he had tried doing some embroidery, since no one was interrupting him. That didn't work out so well either. He was distracted by his own thoughts again and pricked himself a few times before setting it down. His book kept his mind off things for what felt like a few hours, but when the English nation looked up at his grandfather clock, he saw that only fifteen minutes had gone by. After trying to read some more, he finally gave up when he had to keep reading the same paragraph over and over, trying to make sense of the words he had read so many times.

"What a dreadful day," the Brit muttered to himself as he went to go make some tea. Tea usually calms him down. After drinking it though, he signed to himself in frustration.

'_Why can't I focus on anything today?' _England stood up and went over to sit on the window seat. The rain wasn't as bad as before, but it was still pouring quite heavily. It really was quite depressing. The Brit stared out his window for a moment longer before leaning back again the window. _'It's just like back then…'_

England closed his eyes and sighed heavily again.

"…_I'm not a kid anymore. I'm not your little brother either. As of now...I'm declaring my independence." _

England opened his eyes when thunder sounded. He sighed again. America had been his favorite colony. He loved that little rascal. It was adorable how the lad's eyes just brightened up the whole room when he found out that his guardian was visiting him again. The lad would abandon whatever toys he had been playing with and run to England for a hug, usually almost knocking the older man over.

"_E-England…?" America used to be deathly afraid of the dark, especially when it was raining. England knew how much courage it took for the boy to come running to his room in the middle of the night, when he thought he saw another monster._

'_He used to depend on me for everything…he grew up so much while I was away…then suddenly one day, he finds me a nuisance…' _ England sighed as the rain got heavier again. This rain was really depressing. _'Maybe I need a nap…' _It may not seem that way, but England does take a few naps every now and then. It's tiring to deal with the others.

Once the Brit had gotten upstairs and pulled on his pajamas, he snuggled under the covers and shut his eyes. Minutes later, he was fast asleep while the rain poured down, making it sound like a waterfall in his room.

-In England's Dream-

"_I'm declaring my independence!" shouted America as he aimed his gun at his guardian. England gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the tears as he lunged forward, knocking America's gun away with his own. He aimed it right at his colony's head._

_A moment of silence passed, nothing but the sound of rain hitting the ground. _

"_I…I can't do it…I could never shoot you…" He forced a sad smile before collapsing; finally shedding the tears he had been trying so hard to hold back. He could never shoot America. America was his most favorite colony. He loved the lad more then anything. America was one of the reasons why he gave up his glory days as a pirate._

"_You…you used to be so big…"_

-In England's Bedroom-

England found himself waking up two hours later. It wasn't quite night time yet, but the dreary weather was making it look dark out. _'I haven't had that dream since Alfred's birthday…' _The nation sighed as he rolled over and closed his eyes again. Why bother getting up? He was tired and didn't think he could get any work done anyways.

"_E-England…? M-may I talk to you for a bit…?" asked Canada with his soft voice. The Canadian timidly peeked past the doorway into England's study._

"_Of course, Matthew, what do you need, love?" England set down his book and smiled up at the boy. He looked so much like Alfred, but acted much gentler then the rowdy lad._

"_Y-you know how thankful I am, right…?" asked Canada. He walked timidly into the study and sat down on the small couch opposite of the Brit. _

_England nodded as he took off his reading glasses. _

"_I…I…" He shut his eyes tightly. He loved England as a brother, of course, and he didn't want to hurt him, but… "I want independence, too!" Canada blurted out, his eyes still squeezed shut. He was afraid England would yell at him for being stupid. He was afraid he would have to fight a long and hard battle against the former empire. _

_After a few minutes of silence went by, with still no response from the Brit, Canada opened his eyes slowly. He saw that the other man was slightly wide-eyed, but after another minute, England smiled sadly._

"_You grow up so fast…just like Alfred," he said, mumbling the last part to himself._

"_I-I don't want to have to fight you, England…" Canada knew that England still had some pirate left in him. He knew from what France told him that England could easily use almost anything as a weapon and start a war, no matter where they were. It was one of the reasons why Canada had hidden a small gun in his vest._

_The former empire stood up and walked over to the Canadian. He put his hand on the younger man's shoulder and smiled sadly. _

"_I don't want to fight you either, lad." Canada saw England take a breath, "I…I'll give you your independence." England smiled sadly again. 'I knew I would have to let him go soon…'_

_Canada smiled, even though tears were trailing down his cheeks. "T-thank you!" He stood up and hugged his now former care-taker. "Thank you, England, thank you so much…" England hugged his former colony back._

"_Your welcome, lad…Make me proud, Canada." England smiled sadly once more as Canada pulled away. The timid nation wiped away his tears before walking out of the room. Before he could leave though, England only had one more thing to say._

"_You didn't have to bring the gun, love. I traded in my pirate days a long time ago. I wouldn't hurt you," he said with a smile as Canada blushed._

-In England's Bedroom-

This time, England awoke when thunder sounded in the distance. It was still raining, but it lightened up a bit once again. England sighed as he draped his arm over his face. _'…Am I crying…?' _He frowned to himself and wiped the tears away.

He sighed again. _'Even Canada left me…everyone left me.' _England laughed bitterly to himself as he remembered the night that Canada, the good one out of all his colonies, left. He drank so much that night that he got piss-drunk and could barely move until the next afternoon.

England glanced at the digital clock that was on the nightstand. It was one in the morning, but he couldn't sleep. _'If I do, then I'll probably wake up crying like a sissy again.'_ The Brit sighed once again before throwing the covers off and heading downstairs. He made himself a cup of tea and sat down in his dining room, sipping it slowly as he listened to the slow tick-tocking of the clock.

'_Too bad I'm out of anything alcoholic…' _He felt horrible after dreaming of his favorite colonies' independences. Alfred's had crushed him and left him brokenhearted. It was the reason why he made sure his older brother, Scotland, wouldn't leave him. They didn't get along too well, but he couldn't bear being alone. Matthew's had left him hopeless and left him thinking he was a horrible father/big brother figure.

England didn't realize he had almost fallen asleep until his head almost slammed into his teacup and the hot tea in it. "Bloody hell…" The Brit sighed before drinking the rest of his tea. He was heading upstairs when he nearly tripped down the stairs again because of a skateboard. "What the bloody fu-?" he stopped when he remembered what it was doing there.

Sealand had been staying over and brought his skateboard with him. _'Bloody hell, even my own family hates me.'_

England didn't get along well with his family for sure, but sometimes, deep down, he wished he did. Ireland wouldn't have declared her independence and the others wouldn't beat him up so often. Wales would at least try to act polite, even though England knew he loathed him sometimes while Scotland just ignored him whenever he did come over. The nicest thing Scotland had ever said to him was "Get out of my sight before I kill you."

The former empire may have traded in his life as a pirate for a gentleman, but he still had it in him. He obviously tried to be gentleman-like, but he couldn't help getting mad sometimes. _'I wish I could go back to the glory days…I wouldn't be worrying over any of this then.'_

With a final sigh, England got into bed and fell into a restless sleep.

-The Next Day-

Even though the sun was peaking through the clouds and the birds were chirping outside, England still felt miserable. He kept thinking about how everyone left him, leaving him in his 'Splendid Isolation'.

It was already close to midday and the Brit still hadn't changed out of his pajamas. France was certainly startled when his long-time rival opened the door, looking like he barely slept.

"_Mon Dieu! Angleterre_, what 'appened to your face?" asked the French nation in shock. Usually if he visited around midday, England would be up and about, doing something productive instead of sitting there looking dead.

"Belt up, frog," England growled at France. "I'm on the edge, _don't_ push me."

France was definitely startled. Even though they were long time enemies, England usually just rolled his eyes and calls him names and the occasional punch when France came over. Right now, it looked like the Brit would really kill the Frenchman if he had a weapon.

'_Why is Angleterre like zis today?' _thought France with a frown. England glared at him.

"What do you want, frog?" England didn't even let the Frenchman inside.

"I came to tell you about ze next G8 Meeting, _Angleterre. Amerique _told me zat he called you about it, but you did not pick up. He got worried so he sent me to check up on you." France glanced at the former empire to see if he was listening.

Said former empire was staring at him like a zombie.

"_Angleterre?" _France peeked inside and saw that none of the lights were turned on, even though it was somewhat dark out. On his dining room table were a few of the bottles of wine that he had given to the Brit.

England was silent for a moment. France was seriously worried for England for once. He'd seen the Brit on his bad days, but he was never like this.

The UK sighed before looking up at his frienemy. "Everyone's leaving me, Francis."

"Eh?" France looked confused for a second. "What do you mean, _Angleterre_? Are you going on about _Amerique's_ independence?" The Frenchmen was about to make fun of the Brit when he saw the sad look in his eyes. "Are you still upset about it, _mon ami_?" he asked with a softer voice.

England looked up at the French nation again. He didn't say anything, but it was quite obvious he was upset.

Light rain started falling, and within a minute, it was pouring down.

Wordlessly, England let Francis in out of the rain. The two frienemies silently went to sit down in the dining room. England sighed as he took a sip of his tea, and from the looks of it, he spiked it with some of the French wine. France smiled a bit before grabbing an open bottle and taking a sip.

"_Mon ami_, you shouldn't dwell in the past so much. It makes you depressed and you don't look as pretty," said Francis with a small grin at the Brit.

"I didn't want to, but the past keeps haunting me." Arthur glared across the table before grabbing another bottle of wine and drinking from it. He didn't look quite drunk yet, but he didn't look completely sober either. "I remember when we were children though…my brothers still bullied me and you were my only friend." The Brit hiccupped before continuing, "I never said that."

France sighed as he thought of all the times he and England had fought, but also remembered the little pleasant moments they had. Like now, if it counted, since they were not fighting and the Brit seemed relieved that he wasn't alone.

"I wouldn't leave you, _Angleterre_," Francis reached across the table and patted his friend's (for the time being) hand. "_Francis et Arthur toujours et pour jamais."_

"What does that mean?" asked the Brit as he narrowed his eyes. He only understood basic French, considering how much the other man spoke it to annoy him.

The Frenchman smiled, "Francis and Arthur, always and forever." The next thing he knew, Arthur got up from his seat, wobbled a few seconds, walked over to Francis, and smacked him upside the head.

"Don't make me sick, frog." France grinned.

"But _Angleterre_, I am your only friend, _non_? Without me, you are nothing!" he mocked as he stood up and placed his hands on the shorter nation's shoulders.

"Without you I would've been much happier," grumbled Arthur as France steered him upstairs. "And where the bloody hell do you think we're going, frog?"

"Up to your bedroom." Once the French nation finished saying that, England turned around and shoved him, almost making Francis call down the stairs if he hadn't grabbed onto the railing on time. "_Mon Dieu, Angleterre!_ Some gentleman you are," he balanced himself before sighing. "I meant for you to get ready. You're still in your pajamas and you look a bit dead, _mon ami_."

England sighed, he hated to admit it, but the frog was right. "Alright… What about you? I'm quite sure we both know that I'm not letting you into my bedroom."

France smiled, "Aw, _Angleterre_ doesn't want to be alone? I won't leave, _mon cher_," he planted a quick kiss on the Brit's cheek. "Go on up now, I'll be waiting on the couch if you want more."

Arthur couldn't help getting flustered. He turned around toward his long time rival/friend and punched him. "Shut up, Francis." The Frenchman held up his hands defensively with a laugh before heading down the stairs. He knew he had cheered Arthur up in an odd way, meaning he pissed him off at least a bit. Francis smiled to himself, but winced, having forgotten the bruise that was most likely forming on his precious face. "Bastard," he mumbled to himself, mentally smiling.

_The End._

_Oui…_Sorry if the limited French that Francis used is wrong, please tell me so I can correct it! This is my first story, and I'm not exactly sure why I wrote this…but please tell me your thoughts!

Please tell me if there's anything that needs to be changed; from the rating to typos to genres!

Thank you for reading and please review!

-Sofia :)


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